It All Comes Down to What She Didn't Say
by Cordelia McGonagall
Summary: Draco was, for one inglorious game, the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. This story plays with Macbeth. Thank you to JKR and Shakespere for what I do not own.


As Chaser 2 for Puddlemere, I needed to use _Macbeth_ as my muse. Please do keep in mind that we weren't charged to follow the exact plot, and I don't; I've smooshed Banquo and Macduff together like different colors of PlayDoh and rolled two new characters from them. Also, as you will see, I don't kill everybody. Or anybody. My optional prompts were **deceit** , **feather** , and **burning**. Thanks for reading - I had fun with this.

 ** **It All Comes Down to What She Didn't Say**  
**

Scorpius Malfoy thought his father rather quiet, on the whole, about his time at Hogwarts. Some inglorious deeds demanded to be translated concisely; scars merited an explanation; awkward meetings in Diagon Alley were acknowledged with forgettable platitudes. Draco Malfoy was grateful for the few parchments that could stay folded, that did not need to be opened, and smoothed, and parsed. Some things were forgotten by almost everyone with time. The House Cup has no engravings to bear witness. The heavy oak plaque with names etched in tarnished brass does not give him away. There is a ledger Madam Hooch kept that would be the only record of the game in which Draco Malfoy, in his fifth year, was captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Scorpius never hears this story at bedtime, but his father remembers it all.

There were witches, of course.

The Common Room was cloudy with burning incense, and vacant, save for the three girls huddled around a cauldron near the fireplace. They could not see the rain lashing the castle towers, but the storm echoed below the lake and thunderheads turned the green windows to black. The Weird Sisters thrummed on the wireless. _The Weird Sisters, hand in hand, we travel over the sea and land..._

"You do three stirs counterclockwise, then," murmured Astoria, as she peered over her sister's shoulder.

Daphne stirred and Tracy looked up from her Potions book to see Draco Malfoy and Adrian Pucey enter, attempting to strut, but stiff and sore from Quidditch in the icy storm. Draco was sporting a cut over his eye that was bleeding freely, the blood diluted with rain, taking a winding path down the side of his cheek.

Tracy cocked her chin and smiled a slow smile at the boys.

"Ooooh, look girls. It's the new Captain. All hail Draco, Quidditch Captain!"

Tracy smirked, and the Greengrass sisters wiggled their fingers in unison, murmuring "Hail, hail!" Draco scowled.

"What are you on about?" Draco scoffed as he moved to the warmth of the fire, peeling off his pads and cloak, earning disgusted squeals from the girls as he flicked sweat and rain towards them.

"Doesn't our fair boy look foul!" Tracey laughed, making Draco's jaw twitch. "We've been doing a little Divination practice, Draco. You'll be Captain by the next match."

"Shut it," he growled. He wasn't sure how they knew how brutal today's practice had been, how close to failure his feints had been. His head throbbed.

A smile played at Adrian's mouth as his eyes took in Draco's irritation and the girls' smug faces. He grabbed a _Daily Prophet_ from a side table and tossed it into a chair to absorb the wet from his uniform. He settled himself next to the girls.

"Draco's Captain, eh? I dunno why that's so upsetting, Malfoy. That's a tea reading I'd be happy to hear. Anything in your cups for me, ladies?"

Astoria looked up at the older boy, hoping her flushed face would be excused by the heat of the cauldron flame. She held up her cup. "Yes, Adrian," she rolled over the syllables, pleased to use his first name, "You are lesser but greater. Not as happy but more so. You will never be Captain. You will get an owl from your son when he is made one."

"Well, that is specific." Adrian huffed a laugh, bemusedly, as he looked to Draco, who had turned his back to him and was studying the languid curling of a large tentacle in front of the underwater window. The room was quiet, save the claps of thunder. Adrian was startled when Draco spoke abruptly. "That wasn't bloody specific at all, Pucey," He spun around. "So, wait. I'm Captain? What about Montague? When does this happen?"

The boys turned to find the girls had decanted their potion and snuffed the cauldron flame. They were gone. A house elf looked at them both soberly as he vanished the tea tray with a soft pop.

Adrian's smile faded when he saw Draco's face, clouding like the storm they'd just escaped.

Draco's words did not match his face, though his voice seemed to be thoughtful more than gracious, deferring a compliment unearned. "Captain. Ridiculous. Montague's got it, and Bletchley or Warrington'd be next. I'm fast, but I've not put in the years, have I?"

Adrian opened his mouth but was saved from thinking of a reply by Montague, who entered the common room.

"Strong practice, lads. Malfoy, that play was legend. Do that against Ravenclaw and they haven't a chance in..." Montague stopped rubbing his hair with the towel and let it drop to his side. "S'there a problem, mate?" He looked between the two boys.

"No," said Draco, quietly. "There's no problem at all."

And there was a girl.

Pansy was curled around Draco on the couch. He was fresh from a bath and warm. Pansy breathed him in and played with the soft hair at the nape of his neck with one hand. Her other hand traced an invisible _C_ into his chest, above his heart.

"Tell me what they said again, Draco," she purred.

He stiffened. "No. It's daft."

She pulled back and raked her eyes over his face like she was seeing him for the first time. "What would your father say, Draco? Would he say you should lower your expectations and mind your station? I should think he'd be proud to have an ambitious son. You have an opportunity here, unless you are too Hufflepuff to take it."

Draco blinked, looking past her, searching the air for an answer.

Her finger, which had been tracing his prompt, poked into his chest as she pushed off him. Standing up, she folded her arms and looked down at her boyfriend.

"Merlin, perhaps I should have tried out for the team, and left you the white feather! Those girls aren't seeing anything that isn't there. Captain! You should be! You are the best player they have, and they owe you the speed they do manage thanks to those brooms you provided!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "They are my teammates, Pansy."

"Yours to manage," Pansy's voice dropped. "You know what? Maybe they were wrong. I'm not sure you have it in you. Every nagging doubt marches right across your face."

Draco looked as though he'd been slapped. She had made a crack in his resolve, and Pansy knew him well enough to rearrange the foundation as she repaired it. She took a step forward, and straddled him, snuggling down into his lap, her hands sliding up to his face. "Who are you to say no to a prophecy - Harry Potter? You know he will be Gryffindor Captain next. He made his team first," she whispered as she leaned in to kiss his jaw, "You can be first to lead yours."

And then Draco decided.

It wasn't really as much a decision, Pansy reminded him, as much as it was letting destiny fulfill itself. If it could be _done with_ when it was done, then it was best he did it now. A series of small actions, destiny, not deceit, each in turn leading him to what was his due. Bludgers, easily cursed, were retired after they went for Montague; Madam Hooch had eyed them warily, but did grudgingly suggest that the older ones could go rogue. The pitch needed another storm to rinse the blood away. Madam Pomfrey needed more than a tumbler of Skele-Gro to heal him. Something about a spleen and bed rest. It was best if Draco didn't know the details.

Bletchley spluttered in shocked horror when McGonagall summoned the contents of his spilt bag in Transfiguration. He swore he didn't own the magazines, well-thumbed copies of _Lady Quaffles_ , opened to the centerfolds. Pansy was proud of Draco's face on that day, as composed and serene as David carved from marble. It wouldn't do to laugh, for that was his Captain that was given detention. Miles could play the next game, Snape had said. Someone else would have to lead it.

Warrington asked if anyone could lend him a hand with his Charms essay, and Pansy kindly volunteered. She was generous with her time, pointing out several passages that needed to be rewritten entirely. Upon reading the submission, Flitwick demanded two nights of detention for Warrington to copy the set chapters in full. Pansy had the grace to look distressed as she slid her _O_ into her bag. "It won't do to have a plank for a Captain," ranted Flitwick in the staff room. Snape looked murderous.

Pucey was seeing the compass needle pointing the route, and there were fewer obstacles in Draco's path. Draco sensed this was going to be a problem for them both.

There was an encounter in the corridor.

"Ooooh, something wicked this way comes!" Tracy giggled, and the Greengrass girls flanked her, the three aware of their power over Draco, who looked in turns wary and embarrassingly keen to see them in the corridors, on the loose. They stumbled slightly when Draco's height cornered them near a suit of armor. " _Hags_ ," he thought.

"You three are secretly suspicious. I think you've left something out."

"Mmmm, someone's getting nervous, I'd say," Daphne murmured, eyeing the lock of hair falling in his eye, the knot loosened at his neck revealing his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow.

"Speak," challenged Daphne.

"Demand," teased Tracey.

"I'll answer," murmured Astoria.

The girls quietly gave Astoria the floor. Draco looked at her searchingly, and she looked through him. "The leaves were clear. I saw a Snitch end it for you. The one who catches the Snitch decides your fate."

"Well, that's me, then," Draco mused, exhaling roughly, his shoulders rolling back. He looked past her pale eyes, his eyes glinting eagerly. "That's me. I'm the Seeker."

The following morning, Snape offered the Captaincy to Adrian Pucey and was shocked when he refused it. "Give it to Malfoy. He'd be better."

Draco slid the photographs taken last week in the Restricted Section across the library table. He stopped to tilt them toward him slightly. He looked at the subjects with an artistic eye. "A Ravenclaw, huh? Everett Chambers. Handsome bloke, I suppose. Quidditch's been good to him."

"Give them to me now." Adrian's voice was low, cold, and scared.

"Keeping the negatives in case you forget our agreement, Pucey."

Adrian swore. Draco, Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, smirked. He didn't need to be liked to lead. No one liked the Dark Lord.

And then the Prophecy fulfilled itself.

That evening, both Pansy and Draco wandered to the Common Room in their bathrobes. Pansy was jittery; the girls, she thought, knew each lie she'd told, for their silent stares accused her at every turn. She couldn't sleep. Draco held her until her breath evened, and he flitted in and out of sleep. Bletchley, Warrington, and Pucey crept into a dream, clutching an album of photographs. They held him down to look at each one. In the last, Montague was the Bloody Baron, and he was howling.

Draco ran from them, down a long corridor, into an empty room but for one, massive mirror. Astoria was there, floating, more beautiful than he remembered her. She took his hand. He thought he would draw her to him for a kiss, but she pushed him in front of the glass and held him there. A face, his face, pale and hairless, with red eyes and a blunted nose stared back at him. He yelled himself awake and pushed a dazed Pansy toward her dormitory.

Hours of fretful turning and a strong cup of tea later, Draco gathered his team for the match. The Ravenclaws seemed impervious to the rain again lashing the pitch. Play was brutal, but so was the Captain, and Draco's team obeyed his directions with a fierce precision. He glimpsed the Snitch and dove for it, but Warrington - _Warrington_ \- beat him to it. Draco jerked his broom away in shock. An intentional foul. A Snitchnip. Warrington threw his game. Slytherin lost. Draco stared at the ground bobbing below and missed the Bludger shooting for his chest.

The room swam around his eyes, and Draco woke to the sound of retching. Pansy had let too many of her woes slip in the course of attracting sympathy for her insomnia, and Snape and then Pomfrey were summoned. Snape only needed to look at her to see what she'd done; it was dancing so near the front of her mind. He'd only just avoided telling Umbridge, but he took great pleasure in detailing her punishments and necessary apologies until she was quite ill.

Umbridge had heard of Draco's misfortune. There was no more treachery he could commit to keep his deeds secret. She'd have kept it quiet, but Snape owled the Manor. This would not impress the Dark Lord, a young recruit so easily caught. Draco's chest hurt with each breath and shiver. Madam Pomfrey told him of the spell to start a stopped heart, and she told him she'd never used it before today. It had worked the second time.

Adrian entered the Infirmary, hand in hand with Everett Chambers. The pair stopped at the foot of Draco and Pansy's beds. Adrian turned to Pansy, who was holding her face close to a kidney-shaped basin. He patted her foot. "How's our sweet photographer? Even foul things like you can seem pretty, I suppose. What an unpleasant way to be outed, but it's more unpleasant for you to be cloistered here, eh, Pans? Rest up." He smirked at her and turned to Draco. Adrian's false cheer evaporated and his voice was ice. "Warrington's Captain until Montague recovers. He dragged your carcass to Pomfrey. You can see his plaque for special services to the school later. Showed - what was it, Ev?"

"Leadership and valor." Everett recited as he looked around the room, bored.

"That's right, love," Adrian grinned at Everett, who smirked. "You'd better keep kissing Umbridge's fat arse, Malfoy; she's the only reason you're still here and not explaining to your dad's...friends why you can't be a team player."

Draco stared at him. Everything hurt.

Adrian made a small move to go but jerked himself back as he remembered something. "Professor Snape told me you'd have time to revise." He roughly chucked a copy of _Unfogging the Future_ at Draco's chest.

Draco gasped.

From the corridor, he could hear Tracy's laugh.


End file.
